fat jokes aren’t funny

I was nervous to respond to Ms. Arden. I mean, for one: she’s famous; two: I’m not; and three: where’s my sense of humour, yo?

A fan, a follower, a rhino with back fat, mentally taekwondo-ing her way to healthy mirror responses—the kind without tears, hateful self-talk or fetal positions—read that tweet and felt shame. Back-fat shame. Probably-maybe-almost-certainly for the 30th time that day. And it wasn’t even noon.

I get she’s trying to poke fun at her body, because I’ve done it, and the habit dies like a B-movie villain.

Don’t self-deprecate around me; for my sake and yours. And give me a jab when I sometimes forget shame isn’t hilarious.